Work Text:
Fenris had heard the word he in every way imaginable.
Through fractured memories, he could recall the first time Varania called him he. She had laughed, though not unkindly. He felt a warmth from the memory. It was the knowing that he was born a male before Danarius ever got his hands on him.
From Varania, he was comfort.
But once Danarius did know, he feared he’d never enjoy the pronoun the way he did. The magister used it was a gift. He purred man and handsome and masculine against his ear, treated him to herbal supplements and binders and packers when he was good….
And sent him to Hadriana when he wasn’t. It was always she who refused to acknowledge his gender. She who tormented him with reminders of his body.
From Danarius’s lips, he was poison. Fenris was grateful he never heard the word from the witch.
From the Fog Warriors, he was a sign of understanding. As a people, they would use theys and thems and theirs. They would use pronouns Fenris had never heard before, things that made him smile because they so clearly were comfortable and happy with these identities. When he mentioned that he would like them to call him he, they accepted it immediately.
From the Fog Warriors, he was freedom.
His time after escaping was wrought with danger. He never stayed in one place very long, nor did he allow himself to become complacent. He did not trust save for the greed of strangers, paying them as he went. There were many who misgendered him. He suffered without his medication.
From strangers, the rare he was a light in the darkness.
Hawke brings his life to a grinding hault in the best way possible. They helped him dig in his heels and sink roots into the ground. They called him he from the moment they met and didn’t waver at all the day an injury required removing his binder.
At first, he from Hawke was affirmation, confidence, and no small amount fear - fear that Hawke would perhaps misgender him as punishment given their differing views.
He from Isabela was desire. She gave him confidence, too. Her flirtatious nature made him feel attractive, and having the ability to reject or accept her advances reminded him he was free.
He from Sebastian was respect. The chantry brother was the first person he told, that he went out of his way to explain who he was to. Sebastian introduced him to a laysister who felt the same way.
He from Anders was respect in a different fashion. While he hated the man, and the man hated him… Anders had never once used his transition against him. He even helped to start him on his supplements once more.
As time went on, he sounded differently on hawke’s lips. It was softer than he remembered. It tugged on his heart in a way he didn’t understand… even with the rest of the group, it had changed. It felt… fond. It felt right.
He from Hawke and from these people who had become his friends, or even his rivals - it now sounded like home.
He from them was family.
He from them was what he had been searching for.